And What Happened Underground

Took an unpleasant tumble exploring an area of the upper city wall, and had to spend entirely too much time abed recovering. On top of that, it broke my KI, so I’m having to putter around rebuilding Nexus links and KI lists and such. Inconvenient, but a good excuse to wander around and get some excercise.

It is so WONDERFUL to see people in D’ni again! Everyone is so happy, and sounds of welcomes are echoing (*ahem*) off the walls. I’ve been feeling oddly shy about greeting anyone. I’ve been so long alone, and I was becoming, well, a bit of a novelty before. I’m not sure if I’m ready for that again.

I wonder…if Julian knows. If he knows, will he come back? If he doesn’t is it because he’s hurt…or is it my fault? I left their company so suddenly, without telling him I was going. I wonder if he’s forgiven me.

The cacophany of the Bahro has been silent for many, many months. Whatever Yeesha does to keep them at bay, it has been working.

In my wanderings, I reached the Great Shaft. Descent. And the Eder Tomahn. It did not ache as K’veer did.

Doctor Watson, of the DRC left his journal here. It is a sad thing, feeling of lost hope, lost dreams, and yet, at the end, there is a glimmer of light. He returned here, just before the Bahro came, bringing new thoughts… one of which I’d been having myself- That to be safe from the Bahro, humans must make a linking book. I wonder if that still stands, or if Yeesha’s efforts have made it moot.

Then again, given the nature of the Art, who would pass up the chance to travel to a world of their own imagining, if only they could write the book… Bahro or not, if the travelers have the tools, they will do.

And they have been doing. I know there must be others here, who did not leave, or who have slowly returned. A smattering, I assume, but I have seen no one.

Surrounded as I am by whispers and shadows and the subtle hint of voices, it did not startle me at all when yesterday I heard voices in the city, they seemed odd, but my mind was focused elsewhere, and I made no note of it. It was only after, relaxing in Tsoghal, that the oddity came clear to me. Those voices had not been speaking in D’ni!

Are many others coming? If they do, what of the Bahro? What of the spirit of this place?

My dear companion Julian has been writing accounts of our time together in D’ni. He has a quick wit, and an eye for details that I miss, lost in the stories. It is amusing and strange to see myself through his eyes.

A small earthquake rolled though D’ni today, enough to shift stones and rubble in K’veer, so I wiggled my way through an opening. Skinned knees and nose, I wandered the empty halls of K’veer.

I’ve been told that this place played a great role during the years leading to the Fall, and became a focal point during. I’ve steadfastly resisted reading the fiction accounts of the Fall, so that what I hear is not coloured by what I expect.

K’veer is so, so sad. The place drips in sorrow. Not the encompasing, collective sorrow of the City, but an abiding, personal sorrow. The sound of the sorrow, the feel of it, changes from room to room, but it is there.

I found a room, debris on the floor, signs of a fire. The pain that was there brought me to my knees. Loss, such deep loss, like a heart torn asunder in an instant, yet tinged with love, and pride, joy, amazement.